Across the Miles

It had been a few weeks since Ji-eun and Ji-hoon's conversation, and life had begun to settle into a new rhythm. Ji-eun had thrown herself into her training even more intensely than before. She woke up early each day, practiced diligently, and fell asleep late, only to do it all over again. But despite the constant motion, her mind was often pulled back to the space Ji-hoon had once filled in her life.

The physical distance between them wasn't the only change. Ji-eun had come to realize that the emotional distance, while not as wide, had become more pronounced. Ji-hoon was no longer her manager, but he had made it clear that he was still her support. Still, she couldn't help but feel that their connection had shifted. The days of endless conversations about her career, the late-night chats where he would remind her to keep pushing, had become fewer and farther between. The quiet, comforting presence of his encouragement had been replaced with an overwhelming quiet she hadn't expected.

One evening, after another intense practice session, Ji-eun sat in her dorm, staring at her phone. The screen displayed a message she had been avoiding for days.

It was from her mother.

Mom: "Ji-eun, your father and I have been talking, and we think it's time for you to visit home. We miss you. It's been a while since we've seen you. Let us know when you can come back."

Ji-eun stared at the message, her heart tugging at the thought of returning home. She hadn't been home since she had started her training, and while she loved her family, there was something about going back that felt bittersweet now. Her life had changed so much since she left. She wasn't the same girl who had once lived with them. She was becoming someone new—someone her family had only caught glimpses of.

Taking a deep breath, she typed out a response.

Ji-eun: "I miss you too, Mom. I think I can come next weekend. I'll let you know the exact date soon."

She hit send, the words feeling heavy as they left her phone. The thought of going back to her hometown made her feel both nervous and excited. Would her parents still see her as their daughter, or would they look at her and see the trainee—the future idol—who had left everything behind to pursue her dreams?

---

The next few days were filled with preparations. Ji-eun packed her things, mentally preparing herself for the journey back home. Her friends were excited for her, though they teased her about missing them. "Just don't forget us when you become famous!" Minji joked, but Ji-eun could sense the sincerity behind the words.

The day of her departure, Ji-eun found herself standing at the train station, her luggage beside her. She felt an overwhelming sense of both calm and anticipation. The miles between the university and her hometown seemed to stretch further than they ever had before. As the train began to pull away, Ji-eun watched the city fade into the distance, a knot forming in her stomach. This was a trip to reconnect with her roots, but it also felt like a goodbye to the life she had built here.

The train ride was long and quiet. Ji-eun gazed out of the window, watching the landscape change as she left behind the bright lights and busy streets of the city for the more peaceful, slower pace of her hometown. The fields stretched on endlessly, and the air smelled fresher, almost like the past.

When she arrived at her family's home, Ji-eun was greeted with a warm embrace from her mother, followed by her father's deep voice, filled with pride. "Look at you, Ji-eun. You've grown so much."

But despite the smiles and the welcome home, there was a sense of tension in the air. Ji-eun could feel the subtle change in how her parents looked at her. They no longer saw the girl who left for university. They saw the woman who was embarking on something bigger, something far beyond what they had imagined for her. It was as if she was a stranger and yet still their daughter.

As they sat down for dinner, the conversation naturally shifted to her training, her progress, and the future. "You must be getting used to it by now," her father said, his voice proud yet laced with concern. "But are you sure about this? It's a big leap, Ji-eun. It's not the same as going to school. This is a whole other world."

Ji-eun nodded, her fingers playing with the edge of her plate. "I'm sure, Dad. I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

Her mother's gaze softened. "I know you're doing what you love, Ji-eun. But I just want to make sure you're okay. We miss you. We miss having you around. Don't forget that."

The words hit her harder than she had expected. It was as if, despite all the progress she had made, her family still saw her as the girl who needed protection, the girl who wasn't yet ready to take on the world.

She paused, looking up at her parents, a small smile on her face. "I won't forget. I promise."

The evening passed slowly, filled with warmth and family conversations. But Ji-eun couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. She missed the life she had built for herself, the routines, the challenges, and even the quiet moments with Ji-hoon. She missed him more than she was willing to admit, and as she lay in her childhood bed that night, she found herself thinking of him more than she had in a long time.

The distance between them, both physical and emotional, was growing, but Ji-eun knew that in order to move forward, she had to learn to live with it. And that was the hardest part.